


letters to a Communications Officer (or a lit cigarette)

by scipiocipher



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Implied Character Death, M/M, Other, The first one is after the talk, This came out of nowhere, big words, can be ignored, im pretty sure our scientist has identity issues, loveletter, the second one is after s2 finale, you know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-16 23:48:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5845681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scipiocipher/pseuds/scipiocipher





	1. The first one

Dear Communications Officer of the Hephaestus,  
You speak in pop-culture references that I don’t understand.  
You say that I never make sense.  
W̶h̶y̶ ̶d̶o̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶m̶a̶k̶e̶ ̶s̶e̶n̶s̶e̶?̶  
You scream in fear so often  
D̶o̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶f̶e̶a̶r̶ ̶f̶a̶t̶e̶’̶s̶ ̶r̶e̶c̶o̶m̶p̶e̶n̶s̶e̶?̶  
Your cigarettes are contraband, a risk.  
D̶o̶ ̶I̶ ̶d̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶r̶i̶s̶k̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶?̶  
You and I are intransigent.  
You sit there, smoking your cigarette.  
I̶ ̶w̶i̶s̶h̶ ̶I̶ ̶f̶e̶l̶t̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶a̶t̶ ̶a̶l̶l̶.̶  
You drive me insane.  
S̶o̶m̶e̶t̶i̶m̶e̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶o̶v̶e̶r̶w̶h̶e̶l̶m̶ ̶m̶e̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶b̶a̶s̶o̶r̶e̶x̶i̶a̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶l̶a̶ ̶d̶o̶u̶l̶e̶u̶r̶ ̶e̶x̶q̶u̶i̶s̶e̶.̶  
It so seems that you’re a lit cigarette and I’m aflame  
I̶t̶ ̶s̶h̶o̶u̶l̶d̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶f̶e̶e̶l̶ ̶s̶o̶ ̶g̶o̶o̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶b̶u̶r̶n̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶.̶  
Trouvaille, gibel, a few words that come to mind.  
Y̶o̶u̶ ̶m̶a̶k̶e̶ ̶m̶e̶ ̶l̶o̶n̶g̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶k̶i̶l̶i̶g̶,̶ ̶c̶a̶f̶u̶n̶é̶.̶  
It seems this is a letter from an eccedentesiast.  
I̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶n̶o̶w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶h̶i̶d̶e̶.̶  
My mistakes have lead to saudade.  
I am filled with drapetomania when I see the look in your eyes.  
I failed in kairos,  
I am full of hostalgia.  
Y̶o̶u̶’̶v̶e̶ ̶m̶a̶d̶e̶ ̶m̶e̶ ̶a̶s̶ ̶t̶w̶i̶t̶t̶e̶r̶p̶a̶t̶e̶d̶ ̶a̶s̶ ̶a̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶n̶g̶ ̶m̶a̶n̶.̶  
You make me want to ask for a dance.  
You confuse me to no end  
A̶m̶ ̶I̶ ̶D̶i̶m̶i̶t̶r̶i̶ ̶o̶r̶ ̶A̶l̶e̶x̶a̶n̶d̶e̶r̶?̶  
I’m growing worried for your state of mind.  
Maybe, if this way of life continues, I should just leave this letter for you to find.  
You probably think me agelast.  
I would’ve thought this an adoxography not too long ago.  
But, when you asked my those pointless questions, you delivered a recumbentibus.  
Forever your hopelessly verklempt scientist,  
A̶l̶e̶ ̶ Dimitri Volodin

AN: intransigent- unwilling to compromise, in disagreement.  
basorexia- an overwhelm desire to kiss.  
La douleur exquise- the heart-wrenching pain of wanting the affection of someone unattainable. Kilig- the rush after seeing/experiencing something romantic.  
gibel- not death, not suicide, but to deteriorate in way that is painful for others.  
trouvaille- something lovely discovered by chance.  
cafuné- the act of tenderly running one's fingers through a loved ones hair.  
eccedentesiast- one who pretends to smile.  
saudade- a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant, or that has been loved then lost “the love that remains”.  
kairos- the fleeting rightness of time and place that creates opportune atmosphere for action, words or movement.  
hostalgia- anger from the unchangeability of one's past.  
drapetomania- the intense desire to run away  
. agelast- someone who never laughs. a  
doxography- fine writing on a trivial or base subject.  
recumbentibus- the knockout/ending blow, physical or verbal.  
verklempt- completely overcome with emotion .


	2. Dear Communications Officer, I'm running out time

Dear Communications Officer,  
I find myself writing another letter to you- or, well, at you, seeing as how you aren’t going to see these ever. I guess that makes me a bit selfish. Yet another thing to go in your list of “things Hilbert has done that I hate him for.” I wonder if our lists coincide. I don’t really like me either. It’s sad that my only reason for living is wary around me.   
Yes, you’re the only reason I do anything other than rot. It occured to me that maybe you were right about one thing. Maybe Command has lied to me. Maybe Decima doesn’t do what they said it would. Maybe it doesn’t mutate to help. If thats true, then I’ve failed everything. Failed sister, failed Command (not that I’m upset about that), failed you.  
You’ve been testing the waters lately, trying to see if we can even begin to go back to before. We were starting to become close friends, you and I. You were beginning to enjoy my company. You refered to me with glee.   
Are you still alive? I don't know anymore. No contact, radio silence. This letter is different from the other, I've noticed. The other one had time. This one is the panicked ravings of mad man.   
No time, no time, I'm running out of time. How did I find the time?  
Maybe, if you still have oxygen, you'll be okay. We never did find out how that spider survive so long.  
Yours, Dimitri.


	3. Dear Communications Officer, allow me to clarify

Dear Communications Officer,  
In my last letter, I wondered if our lists of things we hate about me coincide. Oh, I could write paragraphs about why I don’t like me. My bizarre ability to fail everyone? yes. My coldness? yes. My personal reasons taking precedence over everything else? yes. There is one thing we don't agree on, I don't think. The end of the previous crew.  
You probably think that was wrong in every way possible, but I believe it justified. It was the means to an end, a furthering in something. I am a... well, not a good man, but a man who was doing what was good at the time. I don’t think there is truly good man. I believe some are better than others.  
Does genius excuse certain actions...?  
I’ve become determined not to be left alone in a room. Hard to do when everyone hates you. Alone... I used to like alone. Now it’s too much. I’m out of time, and now I’m out of my mind. The irony is extreme. It seems things that are a part of the crew are being deprived. The Communications Officer can’t communicate with anyone, the Scientist is losing his mind, the Commander is being commanded, the AI is not as artificial as she should be. No wonder you like her.  
On the subject of Hera, when you almost died, I gained a bit more respect for her. She is not just her programming, it seems. She is human in a sense.  
It seems that thinking that of her was yet another mistake. Part of reason why I like science. Mistakes are not easy to make. Humans, emotions, or relationships? Mistakes are easy.  
-Dimitri


	4. Dear Communications Officer, you bastard

Dear Communications Officer,   
You absolute bastard. Why didn’t you say something? Why did you have that scrubbed from your file? Just why?   
Lung Cancer, terminal.   
So Decima does work. Just differently than theorized. It destroys, then it fixes. But it doesn’t fix fast enough.   
Please come home. Please. I need to know you will make it through this. I need to help, to administer, to do what all that I can.  
Please. I can’t fail someone I love again. Not like this.  
I-I have to go now. Minkowski needs my help.


	5. Dear Communications Officer, why am I still recording these?

Dear Douglas Eiffel,   
Why am I still recording these? It’s been 100 days. I’ve given up hope, Hera has given up hope, Minkowski has given hope. You are officially presumed dead.  
Nothing has changed for the better. We are dying, station is dying, radio silence. Hera gives us 120 days, if lucky. If not, then half of that.   
I'll probably still record these.   
-Dimitri


	6. Dear Communications Officer, it's getting hard to breathe

Dear C-communications Of-fficer,  
It's b-been get-tting har-rd to breathe. I-it isn't the station-n. S-something is w-wrong wit-th me. I-I don't think t-the ot-thers have not-ticed. T-this migh-ht be m-my las-st lett-ter.  
I-I'm s-sorry.


End file.
